


strange and unfathomably beautiful

by KannaOphelia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley can do interesting things with their tongue (Good Omens), Digital Penetration, F/F, First Time, Getting Together, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Skinny Crowley, They/Them Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), This is a love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: It was much later that Aziraphale remembered to ask what the new acquisition to the infant Pharoah's harem was like.Neferure shrugged her graceful shoulders. "No beauty, from what I have heard. Thin as a snake, with flat breasts and strange eyes like a snake, too. Her dancing is a wonder, though." The Princess paused thoughtfully. "Notskilled, but a wonder nonetheless."Oh, dear."I think I might just check in on the Women's Palace," said Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 196
Collections: An Angel and a Demon Walked into a Bookshop: Ineffable Husbands Stories, Ineffable Wives fic by KannaOphelia, Promptposal





	strange and unfathomably beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waywarder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/gifts).



> For my wonderful senior prom date, Waywarder, who suggested spicy historical Ineffable Wives. I hope this gives you half as much joy as your prom gift to me gave me. Thank you for attending with me. *curtseys*

"The new foreign princess in my son's harem has been asking after you, sweet tutor," said the Princess Neferure, God's Wife of Amun, Mistress of the Lands, Lady of Upper and Lower Egypt, Cousin of Pharoah Thutmose II, Daughter and acting Queen of Reigning Pharoah Hapshuset.

"After me, Nefi?" Aziraphale, bouncing the naked Thutmose III on their lap as they had his niece and mother before him. Humans were so nice when they were small. Chubby and round and... Thutmose spewed over Aziraphale's shoulder, and a slave girl hurried took the small Pharoah away as Aziraphale dabbed at their shoulder, discreetly miracling the mess away. "What would anyone want of a humble scholar?"

Neferure laughed. "You are a wonder for the ages, my Aziraphale. The woman scholar with moonlight hair and eyes as ever-changing as the Nile, who dandles princes and princesses on their lap but never ages, who has helped my mother guide the Kingdoms to their greatest authority. Who would not ask of you?"

"I suppose so," Aziraphale said, a bit guiltily. Of course, Gabriel's orders had been very clear. Guide Egypt to peace and prosperity. _So Heaven could mess it up again_ a treacherous drawl in their mind that sounded suspiciously serpentine prodded, but Aziraphale had become good at ignoring that. Their place was not to question. Their place was to do their job as a Principality, guide nations and move on. How long had they been in Egypt again? It was so terribly comfortable here these days. No horrid plagues of locusts or boils, just music and intellectual company and...

"I think you would like these honey cakes," said Neferure. "Sweetest and richest I have ever tasted. I have some new wine, too. And I have some _fascinating_ scrolls outlining local deities from across the seas, if you would be so kind as to give your advice?"

Just a few more years, then.

It was much later that afternoon that they thought to ask, "Dear lady, what is Thutmose's new wife like?" They wondered a little about the harem, about how they thought to be sent to marry a Pharaoh who may well mature well after they reached the age they couldn't bear heirs. Probably worse fates. They would be well-fed, entertained, never in need. Have company. Still...

Neferure shrugged her graceful shoulders. "No beauty, from what I have heard. Thin as a snake, with flat breasts and strange eyes like a snake, too. Her dancing is a wonder, though." The Princess paused thoughtfully. "Not _skilled_ , but a wonder nonetheless."

Oh, dear.

"I think I might just check in on the Women's Palace," said Aziraphale.

"Hullo, angel." Crowley's eyes swept Aziraphale from head to toe, and they suddenly felt very revealed, tugging up their shoulder strap. Not that it made much difference, considering how translucent these linens were. They were suddenly very aware of how dark their nipples showed through the sheath, of how it hugged their breasts and the curve of their belly. "I like the new corporation."

Ridiculous to feel revealed, when Crowley was bathing. They had been stripped of every scrap of hair, the skin shining as if it had been just rubbed smooth with a pumice stone or a miracle, the lines of their head so clear and lovely that Aziraphale didn't find it within themselves to miss the flaming red hair. Even the lashes around the golden eyes had been plucked, and the eyes looked even more serpentine than usual, huge and golden above the long, lean body. The snake tattoo was more obvious without a shock of copper hair. Altogether Crowley looked more like a snake than a human, despite the gangling limbs and the small high breasts that were the only spots of softness on all those hard lines. Strange and unfathomably beautiful.

Aziraphale put their hands on their hips. "What are _you_ doing here?" they huffed, trying to ignore the rush of emotion. _It's you_ , Aziraphale's mind always said when Crowley slid onto the scene. _Hello, you. I missed you._

"Looking for you. Could ask you the same question, anyway. Thought you hated Egypt. Bad memories." There was something like sympathy in their voice.

"Oh, you know. Guiding the Kingdoms."

"Enjoying the food?"

Aziraphale sighed, giving in. "And books. And music. And the perfume. And the warmth. Especially the heated baths."

"Angel heaven, then?" Crowley rose from the water. It still glistened on the thin muscular line of their thighs, rolling down in rivulets. "I needn't have worried. Not that iI worried. Not a worrier, me. Even if I didn't know why you'd come back here. Anyway, I wouldn't worry about an enemy."

"Precisely."

"It's been three hundred _years_. Might send a tablet telling me you're all right, once in a while."

"I'm afraid I rather lost track of time."

Crowley gave them an odd look. "I can tell." They clicked their fingers and a slave girl wrapped a dress around them, and it clung to the wet lines of their body, clinging against breasts and buttocks, even more, translucent than usual. "Come, old... rival. Be very good, and I might dance for you."

"I'm always good. It's my fundamental nature. I don't know what I've done to deserve such a terrible punishment."

Crowley laughed in that particular way they did when happy, all flashing teeth and light exploding across their face in unexpected joy. A glimpse of the angel that had once been the demon. That was why it tugged at Aziraphale's heart. The only reason.

They wondered for just a moment if Crowley ever laughed like that when they were not around. But that was vanity, a sin, and also a complicated thought to have about The Enemy, however congenial.

Aziraphale lay on Crowley's bed, trembling and shaking.

"Stop giggling," Crowley said sternly, long braided wig flying out. "I'm being _seductive_ here. The original Great Tempter, me." Their hips gyrated wildly, and the sound of the flutes stuttered a little as the slave tried not to chuckle.

"You're no succubus," said Aziraphale, trying to ignore the fact that despite the laughter, there was heat between their own legs at the way the slight tapering mound was visible between Crowley's legs, their buttocks muscular and almost lacking in any fat, as if begging to have fingers pressed against their resistance. Almost undefined as their breasts were, they still bounced slightly with the energy of their dancing, little shivers of movement. "Who are you trying to seduce, anyway? Thutmose is only four years old."

There was a sharp golden look beneath heavy kohl, before the gaze flashed away. "Well. I've heard Pharoah Hatshupset is a frequent visitor to the harem."

"Only to have her itching skin rubbed with creams and her arthritis relieved with massage, poor dear," Aziraphale said. "So young to suffer so much. I'd miracle it more, but it seems somewhat unfair when peasants suffer worse."

"That Princess. Neferure." Crowley took a few dancing, slithering steps and looked like they were going to trip over at any moment. It shouldn't have been quite so enticing. "I've heard you were close. Walk around the palace hand-in-hand, always in each other's company."

"Nefri is more interested in her duties as God's Wife of Ahmose and her scholarship than the pleasures of the flesh, food aside. She is quite the gourmand."

" _Nefri._ " Crowley's voice dripped with... something. "Your type, then. A bookworm and greedy.."

"I have no idea what you are implying," Aziraphale said, and then, because he found it hard to stick to lies without feeling guilty, even though lying to a demon shouldn't be a problem, "I have been looking after her since she was a _toddler_. Besides, she's a human. They don't understand."

Crowley's shoulders relaxed a little. Aziraphale hadn't quite noticed they had been tense. They relaxed and moved over to the bed, settling beside Aziraphale, head on their rest. The incline of the bed meant the slightly shorter Aziraphale had slid until their bare feet rested on the footrest, and some instinct flared up, _don't let the demon be above you, don't be vulnerable._ They repressed it. No need to be _rude_ to a friend.

Even so, their voice was a little sharp when they asked, "So what mischief brings you here?"

"I told you. Looking for you. You vanished from sight for a bit, here in the fleshpots."

"So you'll be on your way, then?" They weren't sure if it was hope or dismay in their voice. It had to be hope. Demons were a nuisance, even if it was touching to be worried about.

"Oh, I might stay a while. Haven't had a corporation like this a while, and there's always a lot of mischief to cause in a harem. The ladies are so _bored._ " Crowley's eyes were particularly bright, ringed with kohl, and their long, strong fingers lay slightly beside Aziraphale's, so close that Aziraphale fancied that the feel of demon coolness, pleasant in this heat, radiated through them. Lying beside Crowley was like lying near a cool pond on a hot day, oddly soothing. "Want some grapes?"

Aziraphale found that they did, indeed, want some grapes. And honey cakes. And figs. And beer. Quite a lot of beer

Two hours later, Crowley's wig had been discarded on the floor, the slave had wandered off in boredom, and they were both shaking with tipsy laughter as Crowley tried to toss peeled grapes into Aziraphale's mouth and kept missing. One bounced off the angel's chin, and Crowley caught it and lifted it to Aziraphale's mouth.

"Well done. Even _you_ can't miss from that far, dear." Aziraphale parted their lips, taking it half between them, biting down slowly. The juice spurted into their mouth, sweet, the seeds bitter in perfect counterpoint. Sweet and bitter, Aziraphale thought, like this beautiful word, like this beautiful demon.

"Shit. Do that again."

"Do what again? "

Crowley threw the remaining half of the grape to the floor, and Aziraphale half-thought of scolding at the waste, but another grape was being pressed against their lips. This time when they bit, they both sighed.

Aziraphale frowned. "Don't make fun of me. The grapes are delicious."

"I'm not making fun." Crowley's was staring in a way that made Aziraphale feel strange, light and pulsing and heated all at once. Familiar, this confused fluttering around Crowley. "Are they really that good?"

Aziraphale stared at Crowley's lips. "Delicious."

"Can I taste?"

Aziraphale nodded, and parted their own lips, and could not pretend to themselves that this was not what they wanted, what they had hoped for, what they had imagined a thousand times over, Crowley's lips pulling caressing so tenderly, the gentle swipe of tongue against tongue, gathering the juice. It was impossible and it should not be happening but Crowley was so fine-boned in the translucent linens, so enticing and infernal and _dear_ , so very dear.

"You're right. The most delicious thing I ever tasted," Crowley breathed, and Aziraphale ached. "I could drink from your mouth forever."

"Was your plan to come here and tempt me with your demonic beauty, foul fiend?" Aziraphale meant to sound guarded and challenging, but it came out tenderly.

They weren't prepared for the twist of panic Crowley's mouth. "This isn't a temptation, this is—"

Aziraphale had been worried so much about being vulnerable, and it was Crowley who was vulnerable all along. How could they not see it? Regret and—love, it had to be love, this overwhelming warmth and protectiveness and longing. "I know, dear. Sober up."

They fought through the drunkenness together, and then Crowley sat up, scrambled away on the bed. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit I'm _sorry_."

"Don't be," Aziraphale breathed, and then, with courage, "I kissed you back."

"Yeah. yeah, you did." Bewilderment and _hope_ and fear and it was too much to see on that sharp face. Aziraphale surged forward and kissed Crowley, clumsily perhaps, trying to convey _I missed you, I am glad you are here, you are wonderful, don't go again._

_I love you._

For a moment the lips against theirs were hesitant, and then they were ferocious, tongue pushing against Aziraphale's, hands on their shoulders, bearing them back against the bed. Aziraphale's mouth was forced wide, devoured, until all they could do was weakly cling to thin shoulders. A firm thigh was pressed against theirs and the fine linens did nothing, nothing at all to stop the pressure where Aziraphale felt aching and empty.

"Angel, angel," Crowley muttered against Aziraphale's neck, and it was just a _neck_ , a perfectly modest body part, how could it thrill and explode with nerves like this, almost too much, too much, unbearable. "My angel. How could you think you were just a temptation? My best friend, my beautiful angel, my love, my love." Pressing the words like kisses against Aziraphale's oversensitive skin.

 _Love_. Aziraphale's anxiety was there, threatening to overwhelm, but _love_ , a demon had said _love_ , this had to be good, this had to be a virtuous thing. Aziraphale sent up a brief prayer, hoping profoundly it would bypass Sandalphon and the Metatron and go straight to source, and ran their hand over the smooth lovely skull.

"Too many clothes," Crowley muttered, and Aziraphale's shift was gone. Aziraphale had a moment of panic. Crowley was so smooth and thin. Aziraphale had pendulous breasts and had made no gestures towards Egyptian ideas of hygiene, had kept the tiny gold hairs on their arms and legs and the long hair in their armpits and oh no, Crowley was staring at the stray golden-silver hairs around Aziraphale's nipples.

"Fuck, angel. Like slivers of starlight," Crowley said, pressing a tongue against them, and if no human tongue could feel the hairs perhaps a delicate snake tongue could. The thought made Aziraphale shiver and moan and arch up and Crowley took the invitation, wound an arm around the angel's waist and used the other hand to pull a full breast up, swallowing down as much of the nipple as they could in a wide-stretched mouth.

Aziraphale focused on not swearing, focused on not screaming, tried to arch up more and was held down by that smooth oiled thigh. That was agony too, pressure and no friction, as Crowley sucked and sucked and flicked that inhuman tongue against the hardness of the nipple as the suction drew it long and tight. It hurt, it _hurt_ , and Aziraphale let it hurt, let all the questions and worries be lost in the terrible sweet pain of it.

Crowley drew back at last, and they both looked down at Aziraphale's flesh, at the darkening red ring around where lips had created a bruising vacuum on the fragile white skin around the areola. Aziraphale looked up to see fierce possessive pride fade suddenly to anxiety. "Too much, sweetheart?"

"Just perfect." And then, as if ripped from deep inside, " _More._ "

Crowley groaned, and switched sides, biting and sucking. Possessing, Aziraphale couldn't help the thought, possessing, marking. And it should be terrifying, being claimed by one of the Fallen, but instead, they were wet, so wet, aching craving...

Crowly released the bruising kiss and sat up a little. "You wonderful, darling thing." The demon's voice was shaking and hoarse. "You're so lush, so _much._ " The hand not wrapped around Aziraphale's waist wandered down, palmed the round belly, caressed. "Angel. Angel, are you sure? I don't think, once we do this, I can go back to pretending that I don't—I don't— Not once you're _mine._ "

 _Yours, yours_ , Aziraphale's heart sung. _Darling_. "Anything," they said, simply.

"Oh, angel." Hot wet possessive kisses between Aziraphale's breasts, down the curve of their belly. "Oh, fuck, angel, I can _smell_ how much you want me." Crowley's tongue flickered out, tasting the air, and the obscenity of it made Aziraphale jolt, made their hips snap up. "Let me taste, sweetheart, let me taste you here as well, _please_."

"Yes, yes."

Crowley hissed, pulled Aziraphale's heavy thighs apart, exposed them hot and wet and aching to the air. "So beautiful, so bloody beautiful." Fingers danced against damp curls, against inner lips swollen with arousal. "Look at you. Pretty, pretty thing. Plump petals. Like a fucking wet _orchid_ ," and the praise was so balanced between crudity and poetry, that Aziraphale didn't know whether to laugh or moan. Something between the two came out in a shaking whine.

Crowley grinned up, snake-like, and the snakiness should have been a warning because the tongue that came out was _forked_. Aziraphale gasped and then all though was gone as that strange tongue licked up from entranced, along the lips swirling around the clit, and down again, dipping deeper against Aziraphale's entrance this time. Only for a moment, though, before dragging up again, circling around the clit, and then pulling the stimulation away, down again, and in, and up, until Aziraphale was sobbing and desperate.

"You _bastard,_ " Aziraphale managed to say again after another teasing pass.

"Want something, angel?" Crowley stopped moving and laid their tongue flat against the length of Aziraphale's cunt, and Aziraphale could _feel_ their clit throbbing against the smooth softness, the pressure firmer than any human tongue could be, as if they had a small heart caught in their clitoris, beating desperately against the loving touch. Loving, yes, it was loving, it had to be.

"I want _everything_."

Crowley lifted a lovely head and _glimmered_ at them. "Greedy angel." But one long finger was prodding at Aziraphale's entrance, so gently and carefully, just at the edge of where Aziraphale ached and wanted and...

Aziraphale thrust their hips up, hard, and Crowley laughed up at them in wonder and amusement and lust and almost unbearable shining _fondness_ as they found themselves sunk into the hand.

"Stop messing around, you bloody demon."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." Crowley pulled out again, but only to insert another finger and then, grinning, stretching with another. "Better?" And they twisted and found a place to hook against, and oh all of the Women's Palace must hear Aziraphale cry out, hips spinning up, black spots blinding their vision, and coming, coming.

"Holy fuck, angel," Crowley said happily, pulling out their fingers and sucking on them.

"That's—that's the most unfortunate—"

Crowley laughed and lowered their head again and that tongue, that impossible tongue was unfurling inside now, tasting and licking and flickering against the over-sensitive walls and it was almost too much, too much, it was like Crowley was drinking from them.

"Crowley, I can't—"

Crowley lifted their elegant head to say firmly, "You _can_ ," and before that torturous mouth descended again they placed two fingers on Aziraphale's clit, and rubbed and rubbed as the tongue pressed inside again, found the most sensitive place just behind where the fingers were applying the unbearable friction. How could anything feel like this, how could one corporation contain so much?

And another hand was pressing, spreading Aziraphale's buttocks, gently working inside. A slick oiled finger, prodding, relaxing the ring of muscle, pushing inside. Crowley parted from the care they were lavishing with their mouth for just a moment to say "I always did fancy your gorgeous backside, angel," before there was just the finger fucking inside, the mouth devouring, the almost torture on Aziraphale's clit and there were no thoughts to be had, hardly even consciousness, just pleasure and pain and Aziraphale's wings forcing themselves out flinging them to a sitting position as they were fucked and licked and caressed through orgasm.

"Crowley, Crowley!" Aziraphale felt like they were crying to the universe.

When they came back to themselves, they were scooped close in thin arms, held tight and protectively. "Too much, darling?" Crowley asked anxiously, kissing Aziraphale's eyelids. So tender, so much love, that love that had surely always been there for the seeing. Crowley looked destroyed, mouth wet, kohl smeared all over their face, less put together than Aziraphale had ever seen them. A mess, a beautiful mess. Aziraphale kissed them.

"You're _always_ too much, demon. That's why I love you."

Crowley laughed in relief, kissed their lips. "Oh, angel. My angel, mine." There were maybe tears there too, in the face pressed against Aziraphale's, although it was hard to tell in the general dampness.

There was still panic there in Aziraphale's mind, but they pushed it away. What they had done could not be undone. Crowley was right. There was no way to push this down, to pretend, to go back to being friendly adversaries. But here, clasped close and kissed and _loved_ , there was no space to be afraid.

"But, darling. You..."

Crowley's eyes glimmered. "I'm happy. This is for you." Soft kisses against Aziraphale's cheek. "Always wanted to take care of you, spoil you. My sweet decadent angel. You're made to be cherished, to be adored, and oh fuck I'm going to be embarrassed when I remember saying this tomorrow."

"But you must be..." Aziraphale slid a hand down and shivered when their fingers hooked against smooth, hairless wetness.

"Angel."

Aziraphale stroked, relished the slick heat. "You exquisite snake."

"Angel, oh, angel."

"Tell me what you need."

"My _clit_."

Aziraphale pulled their fingers up, found the hard clit thrummed against it like it was a musical instrument, and Crowley gasped and moaned, moved to straddle Aziraphale's thigh, sliding wetness up and down it as Aziraphale's fingers worked. "Oh, Aziraphale, your _thighs_ ," and Crowley shook and came, tears rolling down sharp cheeks.

Aziraphale gathered them close, kissed their sharp cheekbones. "It's all right, all right, my love."

"I love you, you know. Always. Always have."

"I know. I love you too, Crowley." They drew loving fingers over the bald scalp.

After a while, Crowley calmed enough to say, "I think I just lost you your job."

For a moment Aziraphale was startled, afraid, thinking of heaven and falling, but the wings still spread from their shoulders were still white.

"I mean, half the harem must have heard you screaming the Pharoah's new wife's name. _Not_ a recipe for a long and happy career." Crowley smirked. "Flattering, though."

"Oh, shut up, fiend." Aziraphale poked them affectionately. "But you're right. We should leave."

"You'll break poor Nefri's heart."

"Is that what this was about? Jealousy?"

Crowley shook their head. "I told you. Missed you." Their grip tightened. "Aziraphale, what are we going to do?"

"We'll find a way," Aziraphale said. They realised that, for the first time since Eden, they didn't feel afraid. "After all, we weren't supposed to talk to each other in the first place. We always find away. And we're together, now."

"Together. Oh, fuck," Crowley said happily, and Aziraphale glowed.

They needed to leave Egypt. They didn't know what they would face. But, just for now, an angel wound soft white wings around a demon, and held them close.

**Author's Note:**

> I played a bit fast and loose with dates, here. Hatshepsut probably didn't officially claim the role of Reigning Pharoah until her infant stepson was about seven. But in effect, she was already reigning Pharoah before then, so that's what I went with.


End file.
